Be to her, Persephone,
All the things I might not be;
Take her head upon your knee.
She that was so proud and wild,
Flippant, arrogant and free,
She that had no need of me,
Is a little lonely child
Lost in Hell, -- Persephone,
Take her head upon your knee;
Say to her, "My dear, my dear,
It is not so dreadful here." - Edna St Vincent Millay

Sunday, 31 July 2016

About three days before I set off for my annual retreat/flight/refuge in Victoria, BC, I "upgraded" my cell phone. I'm not exactly a seasoned mobile phone user, but I've had my Android for three-and-a-half years, which, I gather, is the equivalent of fifteen years in washer-and-dryer years. Our washer and dryer recently died within days of each other, like a devoted elderly married couple.

My old phone was waiting up to three minutes to send my texts -- a problem in an actual emergency. It was also refusing to let me access the photos I'd taken with it. Elder daughter had a technical explanation for this; she informed me the phone was "evil". This was odd, as she had helped me acquire it.

Nevertheless, I enlisted her help once more, and on a Sunday afternoon, we arrived at the outlet. Elder daughter immediately started speaking for me, a bit to the bewilderment of the representative, who figured out that I was an English speaker in my right mind -- possibly due to my sly and dry asides.

Fortunately, she was a clever and courteous woman, who explained everything carefully. In turn, we attempted to sell her on JazzFest and ChamberFest, but she lives in Barrhaven. Bit of local humour there.

I departed with an iPhone on my person, which meant I had three days to re-learn my mobile phone skills - such as they are - under elder daughter's tutelage.

She nearly gave up on me the moment we arrived home.

As I updated my contacts list, I sent texts to the immediate members of my family.

To younger daughter, who was in the house but nowhere in sight, I texted:"I've just got a new phone!"
The reply was immediate. I could see the little typing icon.Cool, who is this?
Nonplussed, I responded: "It's Mum."Can't be. My mother's here.

I ended up apologizing to the remarkably patient person whose number I'd erroneously entered into my contacts. No worries, said he or she laconically. I kind of guessed. Elder daughter's first and equally laconic text to my new phone: Hiding. For obvious reasons.

Who Wants to Know?

I live in the capital city of Canada....and I'd rather not! I'm like Persephone, doomed to spend 10 months of the year in Hades and two months in my hometown. Except that Persephone got to go home for six months out of the year.